


Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark

by LydiaOLydia



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Bruce Springsteen lyrics, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I can't help myself, Kylie (Amy's friend), Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6575890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOLydia/pseuds/LydiaOLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I feel like there are already so many great Kylie fics out there, but I wanted to write one anyways.  I hope I can be forgiven ;-) </p><p>I may add to this and make it a 5 + 1 fic, but I liked this little scene enough to post it on its own.</p><p>3/17/18 <br/>This is now canon-balled, so it will probably not ever get finished.  Pour one out for the fictional Kylie that actually liked Jake.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like there are already so many great Kylie fics out there, but I wanted to write one anyways. I hope I can be forgiven ;-) 
> 
> I may add to this and make it a 5 + 1 fic, but I liked this little scene enough to post it on its own.
> 
> 3/17/18   
> This is now canon-balled, so it will probably not ever get finished. Pour one out for the fictional Kylie that actually liked Jake.

Pre-Series  


“Glory days, they'll pass you by” 

Jake Peralta did not have a hot ass. And Amy never would have even started thinking about any of Jake’s. . . body parts if it wasn’t for Kylie Hayes.

Kylie was about as far from Amy as you could get. Curly blond exploded like a supernova around her face. Funky wardrobe made up of vintage pieces and costume jewelry. She was a kindergarten teacher in Park Slope. She loved to tell crazy horror stories of hipster mamas and the nannies who make more than either of them.

It felt nice and normal after a long day tangling with drug dealers, hookers, and other unsavory types.

Maybe that’s why their friendship had survived for so long. Or maybe it wasbecause they both knew almost no one when they moved to Brooklyn from Jersey. Either way, they have a yin yang thing that worked now.

So when Kylie bulldozed her way into an invite to drinks at Shaw’s, Amy was relieved rather than annoyed. Amy had been at the precinct for a month now and things still feel really unsettled. She wanted to be a valued member of the team, but she’s not quite there. Captain McGinley was no help, even when he’s there and sober and awake, which is rare.

Kylie was good at picking up on personal dynamics in a way Amy isn’t. Maybe she’ll be able to give her pointers on what Amy’s doing wrong.

She arrived late (as always). She settled in next to Amy with a negroni and a sigh.

“Okay they’re all over there,” Kylie gestured at the bar with her drink. “And you’re here at a table by yourself. Not good, Amy. Not a good start.”

Amy frowned into her old-fashioned. The maraschino cherry was gone, but still sweet on her tongue. “They’re all telling these stories about before I joined the precinct.”

“And you don’t have any stories to tell?” Kylie's voice was skeptical.

“Not cool stories about being a detective. No one is going to be impressed by my time on the beat. They all did that.” Amy dismantled her orange slice and places the peel on her napkin.

“What about the time you and Hector and Adrian climbed up on top of the water tower and spray painted Rangers Suck?”

“Shh,” Amy hissed. "That was vandalism. I only did it because they dared me. I’m so lucky that did not go on my permanent record. Also, this is the wrong crowd to make fun of the Rangers. Or the Mets. In fact, new rule, no making fun of any of the New York teams.”

Kylie made her ‘you ruin all my fun' face. “Amy, stories are a way to connect with people. That’s all they’re doing. No one is going to be impressed about the posters you made for your 8th grade science fair.”

“Those were really good posters,” Amy stirred at her drink with a little more vehemence than is necessary. Her bourbon settled flat and sour in her mouth all of the sudden.

“They were, honey,” Kylie squeezed her hand. “And now it’s time to move on. Okay, so, which one is Peralta?”

‘Bar stool, second from left,” Amy whispered, not looking up.

“Oh he’s cuuuuuuuute,” Kylie stretched out the word so it was at least three syllables.

“No, he’s not. He’s an idiot. A smirking idiot.” Amy glanced up. Jake was laughing as usual, slapping the sergeant on the back. God, why was everything so amusing to him?

“You said he’s the best detective in the precinct.” 

“I regret ever saying that. He’s the king on the island of misfit toys. And he’s about to be the second best now that I’m here.”

Jake glanced over and caught her staring. Their eyes connected for a minute. He smiled. Something indescribable flashed through her. He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Moment over.

Kylie laughed over her straw, “Oooh, you’ve got a flirty competitive thing with him. Fun.”

“Not flirty. Not fun.” Amy said automatically, but Kylie ignored her.

“He’s totally your type.” She nudged Amy’s arm. “He has a nice smile. Doesn’t he look a little like Bruce Springsteen?”

She will not look up and get caught staring again. "They're both men, but in Peralta’s case, that’s debatable. Nothing in common.”

Kylie ticked off the points on her fingers. “Curly brown hair, Bad boy in a leather jacket. Nice ass. He’s totally your type.”

“He does not have a nice ass.” Amy took another quick glance. Jake had turned back to the bar, thank god. “Totally average ass. B + maybe. And besides, I didn’t have that big a crush on the Boss. You’re exaggerating.”

“Didn’t you kiss your Born to Run poster good night for like three years?”

“It was only two years and you’re sworn to secrecy. Swore on pain of death.” Amy crunched down on a piece of ice. “Why are we friends again?”

“Because you love me. Okay, remember Nick Papas, the ticket scalper with the motorcycle?” 

God how could she forget? She had started trying smoking to impress him and all she had to show for it was her stolen algebra notes and a secret cigarette habit. 

“Okay, okay. maybe 15 year old Amy Santiago would have had a crush on Peralta, but mature, responsible Amy Santiago does not.”

“Uh-huh. So you have checked him out.” Kylie waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

Amy’s cheeks warmed up. It was the drink. No big deal. 

“We work together. I’m not going to even dignify that with a response. Besides, he's not a bad boy. He’s more like the class clown.”

“Also totally your type. Remember Sam Thompson?” 

“Sam Thompson who made me spurt milk out of my nose on a field trip and then called me Snot Nose in front of everyone and never spoke to me again? Oh yeah, I remember him. Besides, I don't want a bad boy or a joker.”

“Well, what do you want then?” Kylie says. There's no irritation in her voice, just curiosity.

“I’m looking for someone mature and responsible and stable.” Amy rattled off the list without even thinking.

“That sounds great if you’re talking about your Roth IRA, but not so much if you’re looking for screaming orgasms.”

“Fine. You know what else Nick Papas and Sam Thompson had in common?" Amy swirled what liquid was left in her drink and then drains it in one gulp.

“A hot ass.” Talk about a one track mind. Once Kylie got started, it was hard to get her to stop.

Amy held up a hand. “No. Okay, yes. But that’s not what I mean. Those guys didn’t know I existed. “

“Oh, honey. You’re not a fifteen year old girl any more either. You’re a smart, sexy woman and you need to let the world see that. And we need to start here.” Kylie pulled Amy’s ponytail loose. 

Amy sighed as tension leaves her scalp. It felt good to let her hair down. Literally if not figuratively.

Kylie nodded with approval. “Tons better already. Now, we need to get you more relaxed.” She grabbed her ginormous satchel purse and started rifling through it.

Amy’s stomach crashed. “No, not the peppermint oil. It makes me smell like a candy cane.”

“Yes, the peppermint oil.” Kylie flourished the little brown aromatherapy bottle. “You carry all your stress in your neck and your head. Now let me do my thing.” 

She started working on her temples and Amy can’t help but sigh with relief. Her hands fluttered to her sides and her eyelids drooped to a close..

“Santiago, what’s going on here?” She recognized the voice right away. Her hands tightened up again. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know who it is. But she did.

There it is, the Peralta smirk. She's already learning to hate it.

“Peralta, this is my friend, Kylie Hayes. Kylie, this is my partner, Jake Peralta.” She said through clenched teeth.

“So nice to meet you. Amy has told me so much about you.” Kylie was practically purring.

Peralta smiled and offered his hand. He’s turning the charm up to eleven. “Well, I’m even better in person, if you can believe it. She has told me nothing about you, but I can’t wait to learn more.”

Kylie cooed and Amy stifled the urge to gag. Maybe she should set them up, but that would mean more Peralta in her life.

“This has been fun, but I’ve got a date. Must dash." Kylie said brightly.

“No you don’t. You just want to go home and marathon all the Drag Race on your DVR.“Amy said, panic in her throat, but Kylie was already pecking her on the cheek.

“Nice to meet you, Jake. Oh and by the way, Amy can tie a maraschino cherry with her tongue.” 

Kylie winked and leaves in a swirl of peasant dress and and patchouli. Amy glared at her departing back. Traitor.

Jake frowned. “Your friend is nice. A little strange, but nice.”

“We’ve been best friends since seventh grade. It’s the only explanation I have. Why did you really come over here? I’m not giving you her number.” 

Peralta looked almost . . . embarrassed? Then it's gone. “I thought maybe you two were going to make out, so I had to come over here for a good view.”

She rolled her eyes. “Peralta, don’t ever change.”


End file.
